I’m kind of down on humanity right now.
Someone smashed the driver’s side car window to bits in order to take what didn’t belong to him.
The man from the bank said the thief had made purchases already. The phone’s battery was at 6%. Don’t put me on hold. Please, no! I can’t wait. Then it was 4%. My energy was draining quickly.
The air was cold and crisp and the window was sitting in a shattered heap in a parking lot. It was gone and I shivered both from the cold and from the awareness that my license with my address and my house keys were in my purse.
Then as the sun set behind the mountain and the darkness set over the plains the realization dawned on me that my regular glasses were in my purse. I don’t believe it was just my sunglasses that made the world seem darker that night.
“Did you leave something valuable in sight?” Oh, dear friend, why, yes. As a matter of fact, my purse was in sight, thank you so much for asking. Because I don’t feel betrayed enough already. Oh, humanity, I can’t help but be down on you right now.
It’s just a material object. A thing. It’s replaceable. I’m reminded over and over to be glad we are all safe and unharmed. Yes, I know. I know. And I am grateful. More grateful than I can ever express. More grateful than you know. Truly, I am. In the whole scheme of things this is small, but it’s still discouraging.
Ken bought the purse as a gift, and because he knows me, it was perfect. He knows I wouldn’t want a trendy thing, or thing that can be easily had. No, that kind of thing wouldn’t have been right. This thing, this material object was sought out; it was unique. It even had a “personality.” He read the descriptions for each of the various styles and chose this: intended for one who is “Phlegmatic or Choleric or Melancholy,” because sometimes I’m conflicted. Sometimes I’m incredibly grateful and incredibly discouraged in the very same moment. He knows that, and loves me in spite of (or maybe because of) it. Sigh. It’s only a thing. I know.
I resigned myself to wearing my old glasses for a few more years. (Glasses are expensive, don’t you know!) Every time I looked in the mirror and saw my reflection I felt mad. I didn’t want to wear my old glasses; I liked my new glasses. Then I felt guilty for feeling mad, because at least I do have my old glasses, and we are all fine. We are safe. And everything is fine. Next, I went downstairs and pulled out an old purse and borrowed a wallet from Madeline. (Not that I had anything to put in a wallet.)
I got a call from a lady who had been cycling in Old Colorado City and noticed my license on the ground. She stopped doing what she was doing and picked it up. She took the time to do some research and found my number and called me. She said she’d put the license in the mail. Okay, fine. Humanity might not be so bad.
The phone rang a few days later. It was the officer who took my report. I felt like I was getting a call from a friend. I mean when you spend a considerable amount of time discussing something as personal as the contents of your purse with someone… Anyway, she said she’d heard someone in the station talk about items that were turned in that morning. She stopped what she was doing and went upstairs to see if by chance my purse was up there. And it was! She said that city workers found it near a utility area (whatever that is) and brought it to the police station. People stopped what they were doing and went out of their way to do the right thing. Isn’t humanity just AWESOME!
A wise friend commented that, “That creep doesn’t know who he’s messin’ with!” On our way home the night of the theft, Sammy and I had our seats pulled all the way forward so the heat, which was turned on full blast, might just brush against our frozen skin before rushing out the broken window, and we prayed for the thief. When we arrived home we added “the person who stole mom’s purse” to our prayer jar. I pray that God gets busy messin’ with that creep. I don’t know what that will look like for him or her, but I know the kind of God I serve. He is a God of second (or seven times seventy) chances. He is a God of amazing grace. How do I know? I know because he saved a wretch like me.